Clive's Journal
by The Knit Hat Ninja
Summary: A few things about myself? I've injured at least almost a thousand people, I built a fake Chinatown, oh, and my favorite color is blue. I guess I should state my name. Clive Dove.
1. Chapter 1

_I don't really know how to start this off correctly. This book was given to me by Flora. I have no idea what the hell I'm suppose to write about. My feelings is something that Flora suggested. Things about myself was another one. Luke suggested tall tales, which seemed absolutely absurd. Hershel did mention something about writing down goals for the life ahead of me, if I'm not mistaken. Things about myself it is._

_ A few things about myself? I've injured at least almost a thousand people, I built a fake Chinatown, oh, and my favorite color is blue. I guess I should state my name. Clive Dove._

_ You see, I guess you could say this started when I was about seventeen, fresh out of high school. I was left a huge inheritance by my adoptive mother, and from there on I was set. I could've conjured a business plan, but there was something about destroying something that seemed so pleasantly vexing. I can't put my finger on what it was exactly, but at the moment, it indeed felt very right to do so. I had lost three precious things of mine, and I had the mind set of doing whatever it took to get those three things back. Those three things? My mother, father, and my adoptive mother._

_ A large portion of this true tale had other human beings involved as well; I'm not that much of a madman to do that sort of thing just for fun. That's when you know you've gone rigid and completely insane._

_ Professor Hershel Layton was involved in this story. When I was ten and indeed low on my luck with the fresh slap of being lost and alone, he had helped me. I was sure that I could run back into that building and save my parents. I was so sure. He pulled me back and slapped me across the face, wondering why I would do something so stupid. I truly hadn't known what to do at that moment._

_ Bill Hawks, the 'precious' Prime Minister took a role as well. There was and is not anything pleasant about that old man. He was the source of all evil in this story. He killed my parents, the love of Hershel Layton's life, and many others. He was a greedy roots of a plan of greed gone wrong. But then again, where has greed ever gotten anyone? Certainly not a joy ride to the higher life full of low expectations and opened arms. Even so, that life would be horrible. It wouldn't be like your old life; you'd miss it._

_ Flora Reinhold. I truly feel sorry for what I did to her. She was the closest thing in my view when I had decided to hold someone hostage. She almost seemed the weakest; one who couldn't fight me back, even though she tried so hard to. I've apologized to her time after time, and even though she DID accept my apology, I still feel horrible for what I had done. She'd just stare at me with those caramel brown eyes of hers and whisper a feeble, "Clive, it's okay. Stop worrying about it, really."_

_ Luke Triton. I had used him for a part of my plan, and I wouldn't exactly blame him if he were mad at me either. I have a feeling that he is, but he won't say anything about it. Once I had been released from jail, he was the only person who barely spoke a word to me. Until we were alone, of course. He stared me down until I couldn't bare it anymore and then said, "I know you feel bad for what you did, but it's going take a lot more than apologizing to be forgiven." I was shocked at his words. For ten years old, that boy certainly knew his stuff._

_ Well, I suppose that's all I really want to write right now. What a depressing entry this was, huh? Writing to a journal...it's silly, but oddly relaxing. Perhaps I'll make this into an every day thing? We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay. Second chapter thingy. xD Urk. I had some trouble with this chapter. :P**_  
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_Luke seemed less mad at me today, which I must say, was nice. He was sitting at the kitchen table this morning when I woke up, legs dangling off the side of his chair, explaining to Flora a puzzle. It was pretty cute; I had a feeling that they liked each other. I know Luke is going places someday, he's a smart boy with charming good looks. I mean, I would know; I'm him ten years into the future, right? _

_ Flora seemed to thoroughly enjoy being taught such an explanation, but you and I both know it was Luke's company._

_ It's been at least a month now since I've been released from the wretched place you call jail. I was there for five years. I'm now on probation and living with Hershel, Luke and Flora, until I get back on my feet. I've been at the flat for at least two weeks now._

_ My room is located right next to Flora's and it makes me feel like quite the creeper. I heard her murmuring Luke's name in her sleep last night...a lot. I could feel myself blushing just because of the fact that I could hear her. I don't know if Hershel or Luke could hear, though. I have a feeling Luke did, because his room is on the opposite side of hers. And if he DID hear her, he definitely didn't say anything about it. Quick glances back to her and the kitchen clock were enough proof if he did._

_ I got a letter from my probation officer, Hobbs. In the letter he stated that if I was really good, as I've been acting, for two more months then I'd be absolutely free. And freedom from authority tastes pretty sweet, or at least I would assume so. I'd finally be able to walk among the London streets worry free. I can't even visit Constance's and my parents' graves without getting swarmed by reporters. I'd ask why we live in such a horrendous world, but then I remember that it's partially MY fault. Silly me._

_ Hershel has been quite forgiving, which in it's time of need, I'm thankful for. He hasn't talked to me about jail or anything at all, really. Normal conversations were something I missed dearly, considering all the talk I ever received was from the imbeciles that couldn't even talk with proper English in my cell. They'd tell me the crime I did, as if I suddenly had contracted amnesia. It was needless to say that I hated them with a passion. I understand what I've done. If I could go back and fix it, I would. Trust me. That jail was horrible. They referred to the prison food as 'grub'. And grub it was indeed; rubbish looking mashed potatoes, some greasy looking mystery type of meat, and some, what I assumed it was, corn. Absolutely disgusting._

_ Erm...I guess that's all I want to write today. I guess once you learn to begin a journal properly, you should remember to end it properly as well...which I unfortunately lack the skill of right now, as you can see...Bye?_


	3. Chapter 3

**...I hate Bill Hawks. Then again, doesn't everyone?  
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_I'm not sure where I'm really going with this. I guess just to talk about the old days of my horrid past. Yes, the past, and my new future. I want to make something of myself, not just be known for the man who tried to destroy London. Although I know that it will never disappear, I can still edge it off slightly, if I try hard enough. _

_ There is something I've kept secret from everyone else, though. I don't know how much longer I can keep it inside; it's gnawing at me in the inside; screaming for a way out. Well, maybe it's not THAT problematic, but for a certain someone it will be. _

_ Who, you ask? I'm not sure if I'm ready to reveal who OR what just yet. No matter how many times Flora has told me that this journal is private, I still feel the need to keep some things to myself. For the greater good, or something like that, I guess you could say. If only a few people hardly trust me, why should I trust them at all? That seems quite silly to me. Probably not only to me either; I'm pretty sure a lot of people feel that way._

_ When I was younger, right before the time machine explosion, my mother and father took me out to get ice cream. I had received high marks in all of my classes, and as a ten year-old boy, this was quite the reward to be given. Once we had arrived at the shop, I had been thoroughly enticed by all the ice cream flavors that the establishment produced. Except for one. The flavor I had been craving for at least a week. Ice cream was rare at the Dove household. I only got it on special occasions, such as high marks. The ice cream place had been out of my favorite flavor. Quite angry with this, I threw a tantrum that even another boy my age would see as very childish. Needless to say, my parents were really angry at me and we went back home empty handed. I hadn't been entirely sure why I had been so angry over such a small ordeal, but I didn't talk to my parents for three days. And that third day was when the time explosion had costed my parents their dear lives._

_ And that is when my life had taken a turn for the worse._

_ Even today I can't look at a bowl of chocolate ice cream without feeling sick. I loathe it with a passion. It takes me back to those days. Those horrible days when I felt alone. The days when I met Hershel and Constance. I'm not saying that meeting them was horrible, because they saved my life, but if it weren't for Bill Hawks, I wouldn't have to know them. I'm sure I would know Hershel either way, being the famous professor he is, but not Constance._

_ This world would've been much safer if Bill Hawks was never born; at least London would be more safe. _

_ Even as I write this, my hatred for the Prime Minister grows stronger._

_ It's all his fault._

_ His. Damn. Fault._


	4. Chapter 4

**I haven't seen Pavel in a story on here, yet. Time to add him into a story, for once!**_  
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_Another sleepless night for me, it seems. It's 10:30 P.M. and I can hear Flora murmuring things again. I really don't understand how that girl can sleep through so much noise; about at least fifteen minutes ago the alarm of a nearby flat went off and it woke up everyone except for her. That alarm was rather loud...The first place Luke ran to was Flora's room. Good to see how loved I am. Hershel ran to both of their rooms in his red velvet pajamas, and it certainly was a sight to behold. He was still wearing his top hat, even. I'm beginning to think that he's a tad bit obsessed with the thing, but I understand since it was given to him by Claire. Believe it or not, but the tie I always wear was given to me by Constance. Even a madman like me holds precious things to his heart. That was a horrible line, wasn't it? It sounded like something from an atrocious type of card that you would get from the market; not that they make those types of cards anywhere in the world. I'd be earnestly surprised if they did. I'd feel a little special, too. Apology cards just aren't my style anymore. Too many hand cramps._

_ In the past few days, my name has started to disappear from the London Times. Clive Dove just wasn't special enough anymore to be kept in such petty newspapers, I guess. The reporters were less and less everyday. It's only been a month since I've been released from jail...you think there would be paparazzi on my tail for at least three months, not that I'm complaining, because I'm NOT. Life's been so much easier without the hassle of running away from them into some bathroom for some freaking peace and quite. Even puzzles wouldn't shut their mouths. And I found that unpleasantly shocking...The last person who got me with the camera was unhappy as well...when he looked at the picture, it was completely covered with Pavel's confused face. Oh, Pavel. I think I'll make him my companion in traveling. I don't think he would have a problem with it, considering he followed after me, yelling, "Mon amie! J'ai besoin your help!" Partly in French it means, 'My friend! I need...'. Walking companion achieved, I think._

_ Erg, this journal entry is going to be short today...I'm not sure what else to talk about it. Nothing really interesting happened today. Well...until another day, I guess._


	5. Chapter 5

_It's been at least two weeks since the last time I've written in this journal thing. It sort of makes me feel like less of a man when I write an entry. Flora tells me that it's not just for girls, but I'm not so sure anymore. It's a book for someone to write their feelings into. It's girly. I'm a man. Heck, I destroyed half of London over night! Why do I need to write down my feelings into some little black book? THAT'S how I view it sometimes. Other times I sit back and think about truly why I need to so badly. If I kept my feelings bottled up inside, I would explode at any moment. And I think London has had enough explosions. _

_ I'm starting to feel that I can now put anything in this journal and no one will see it. I'm about to take a lengthy risk and tell my secret right here and now. I suppose it won't matter either way if they DO see. They're going to figure out one way or another, right? Will they view me differently even if they do find out? That's a question that vexes me. Well, here I go...I must say, the grip around my pen has just tightened immensely...You can do it, Dove._

_ I like...Flora Reinhold. _

_ Big surprise there, eh? That was actually a semi weight lifted off of my shoulders. I finally had the courage to write it down. To write down something that's been through my mind since I arrived at Hershel's flat. I'm pretty sure HE knows by now. The Professor knows everything. I was looking at a book about puppies the other day and he went on a rather long lecture about how there was this one breed of dog that's tongue stuck out to the side instead of in your mouth. He told me how it got that way and some other things I would've rather not known. Anyways, it felt rather good to write that down. I don't know any way to go about it. I know she likes Luke. Which, makes me happy that she likes someone at least, but I want it to be ME..._

_ Flora and I sort of share a similar past, and by that I mean our parents. They both died. Maybe that's one of the reasons why I like her so much. We share something depressing and similar. We were both young when we lost them. Although, Flora didn't go crazy like I did. She didn't plan up a whole freaking fortress and kidnap scientist. And she most definitely didn't kidnap HERSELF. I'm STILL ashamed; I can't believe I would do all those things. All of this may be blamed on me, which is absolutely truthful, but it's also Bill Hawk's fault. But when Flora forgave me like she did, my horrific views began to soften. Can you imagine it? Me. Soft. It still makes me laugh, even. Don't be ashamed if you are. Go ahead. I don't really care, anymore._

_ Believe or not, Clive Dove has feelings. Happy. Sad. Angry. Very, very angry. Insane. Insanely insane. And there are these rare poundings in my heart, or at least what's left of the cold thing, whenever I see her._

_ This is what I mean. Less of a man, I mean. I'm leaving my reputation as a criminal._

_ At least then I'll be left alone and I'll be able to live my life._


	6. Chapter 6

** Holy puzzles, I updated! Sorry it's been a while!**_  
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_Greetings, I suppose. Like I've said before, I still feel a bit silly about this, but have kept going because we all know how much I need it. _

_ The reason I haven't been written for so long is because I've been terribly busy with visiting some people and the graves of Constance, my parents, and Claire. Now, before an imbecile decides to open his mouth and ask, I will press quite tightly that I am _not_ making another mobile fortress; I've learned from that lesson ten years ago._

_ To my surprise, no one has question what I've put in this silly little book. It's been mentioned by the professor that I looked happier, considering that I carry it around everywhere with me. I have to agree with this, mostly because I don't have to tell anyone about my horrid past, although they keep asking me. It's my own little therapist, because honestly, I don't know anyone who would want to listen to my problems._

_ Flora sat me down and told me about her life in St. Mystere. She told me about how the residents were robots instead of humans and how she was the Golden Apple of the town because every time she laughed or smiled a golden apple would appear right above her chest. I'd known that Flora's parents had passed away, but I didn't know Lady Dahlia wasn't actually her mother. I was truly amazed that Flora had trusted me enough to tell me something so deep and personal. When she began to cry, I couldn't help but hold her. I wanted to, at least. I didn't want things to be awkward, so I just patted her on the shoulder, whispering sweet words; I felt like a fool._

_ Whenever she spoke of her father and mother I noticed such a glimmering sparkle in her eye; I admire it dearly. She went on about how she went to a field full of flowers with her parents one day and that she could still remember the smell of the crisp and sweet flowers. When I had said that she could become an author with her memories and descriptions, she rejected the idea, claiming she wouldn't know where to begin or end. It seemed quite silly to me, but I let it be. Who was I to stand in her way? I don't own her._

_ I got to talk to my probation officer, Hobbs, again. One more month until I'll be set free. When the professor, Flora, and Luke had found out, they seemed as ecstatic as I was, which was a relief. As much as I was ecstatic, I felt something first that had kicked in; Fear. I'd been out before, but I know no one would want to hire me if I ever wanted a job. I imagined it in my head over and over again: The professor getting mad and kicking me out, Flora possibly falling for me and then breaking up with me all because I didn't have a job._

_ I probably shouldn't have to worry about it just yet._

_ But I am. That's how Doves' work._


	7. Chapter 7

_Luke sat me down the other day and asked me about my diary. He looked mad for some reason, and I could exactly put my finger on it. Until he spoke._

_ "You've been writing the diary Flora gave you, right?" He spoke with such a harsh tone, and for some reason I had to keep myself from laughing. I guess he could tell because he then said, "Clive, it's not funny! Flora gave it to you to write down things so you could feel better!"_

_ Feel...better? Was Flora really that concerned of me? I can't say that I've been feeling bad, because Flora really HAS helped me with this little diary._

_ "Yes, I know." _

_ Luke bit his lip. "You like her, don't you?"_

_ My eyes widened in fear. How did he know? _

_ "As a friend, Luke." I muttered, my gaze wandering off into the distance._

_ "I like her too." Luke said quietly. "For a while now. And I have a feeling she may like me back. Please...Don't mess this up for me."_

_ My eyes narrowed and then set on Luke's pleading face. "I don't think you heard what I just said."_

_ "She wouldn't want to marry a convict."_

_ I was silent for a few moment's time, letting those words soak in. Convict. Convict. Convict. That's what I used to be. That was my past. My weakness when thinking about the things I'd done over the years. _

_ I crossed my arms, "I know."_

_ "Then leave her alone."_

_ "I'm afraid I can't do that."_

_ "And the reason?" Luke asked, smugly._

_ I smirked at his question. "I live here. Or have you forgotten?" _

_ Luke growled at me then, leaving the room, stomping loudly._

_ I laughed for a bit when he left, but his words still haunted me._

_ She wouldn't want to marry a convict..._

_ I was still afraid because of that very reason. Flora had opened up to me about her parents, to which I was pleasantly surprised, but what if she was afraid of me? What if she only wanted to make me feel better? I didn't need a therapist. I know the things I did were twisted and sick._

_ I wanted a friend. Flora was one. Professor Layton was one._

_ Right?_

_ Or have I been fooling myself this whole time?_

__**Dialogue? Yeah. Dialogue. :D  
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	8. Chapter 8

_You won't believe this. For once in my life, I'm scared. Not of a monster or anything. Something much more…believable. I'm afraid of being feared by the one I like. I know she was there to witness my crime and that she's forgiven me, but I can't help but feel like she's still shying away from me. Even after trying her hardest to help me and comfort me with stories of her family, was she still afraid? Had I still scared her without the intentions?_

_ I knew that something going good in my life was too good to be true. I'm a monster. No matter how much I apologize, the burden still lays with me, cracking me open like an egg until I admit defeat and give into the name. _

_ I'm afraid to ask her; namely, afraid of the answer. Asking was easy; the answer is the problem. The pressure would be too much of a risk. What if she said yes? I don't know how I'd be able to handle myself. The things I did a few years ago haunt me in the hours of the night. Is Bill Hawks even partial to the blaming? Or was it just me? At that point in my life, I had tipped over the edge of insanity. Nothing mattered except avenge. Flora had been a mere pawn in my plan, nothing more than to make Hershel upset and come save her. But even as I still think that was why, I begin to wonder. Why not steal Luke? He was much smaller and would be easier to kidnap. Sure, he would've been louder than Flora, but he still might've been an easier target. That's when I realized why. I liked Flora. The way she looked. The way her hair was in a tight little curl atop her forehead. She was elegant and mature, everything I was not. She was beautiful and I wanted to look at her, ergo the cage she was put in. A pawn becoming more? Seems like a stupid thing to let happen, but I can't help it. I can hardly blame her, either._

_ Even as I write this, I'm still afraid to ask. Believe me, I want to ask. I've _tried_ to ask, but my bloody mouth can't seem to form the words and I'm just standing by her, my jaw ajar. I'm turning into a blithering fool. A fool who seeks only an answer to a question that wants to be asked, but is mute._

_ Why can't I just ask her?_


	9. Chapter 9

_I finally mustered up the courage to ask her. Despite the words constricting my throat and my lip bleeding from biting it so much from fear, I asked. I was leaning against her door frame. I'd been there for nearly ten minutes before she finally noticed me. She was in her own little world, singing one of Janice Quatlane's songs into her hairbrush. Once she hit a high note, she finally turned around and saw me. Her jaw dropped, along with her hairbrush and her face turned a lovely shade of crimson.  
>"You're a wonderful singer. You should put a show on sometime." I mused, chuckling slightly.<br>A shriek escaped her plush pink lips and she quickly picked the hairbrush up and hid it behind her for reasons I was rather unsure of. I already saw her sing; there was no point in hiding the evidence.  
>"What are you doing?" Flora asked, jumping off from the top of her bed. "Why is your lip bleeding? Are you alright? Let me see." She took a hold of my face with her hands. Electric sparks set off tingles in my cheeks. Flora brushed a finger across my lip. "The blood is dry," she commented. "Are you okay?"<em>

_ I nodded my head slowly. I couldn't really think of anything to say. My head was spinning and it felt like it was about to fly off and hit Flora's mirror. I saw my reflection in her mirror and I saw that I looked absolutely terrified. _

_ "I wanted to ask you a question." The words come out quicker then I expected them to. _

_ "Anything, Clive." Flora said with a smile. She puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'll always be here for you."_

_ Believe it or not, that made me happier then I've ever been in a really long time. And it made it even harder for me to ask her. ...But I did._

_ "Are you still afraid of what I did to you?" I regretted those words as soon as they came out of my mouth. Who was I to ask such a personal thing?_

_ Flora clears her throat, and her eyes begin to dart around the room. They land on my terrified reflection in the mirror and her gaze stays there for a while, unmoving._

_ "I know you feel bad for what you did. I know you wish you could take it back if you could. I know you've changed since you've gotten out of prison, Clive. I haven't a reason to be afraid anymore. You've turned over a new leaf. I'm really proud of you, actually."_

_ "But I'm a monster," I say back, "How can you be...proud?"_

_ Flora squeezes my shoulder and gives me another dashing smile of hers. "You're different from when you did your crime. You might not be able to see it, but to me it's clear as day. I bet the professor has noticed it, too."_

_ "R-Really?"_

_ Flora nodded. "I wouldn't lie to you!" She says happily._

_ My heart was now soaring in the clouds, as dumb as that sounds. We both stayed quiet for a minute, the only sounds heard is our breathing. And in the next few seconds I did something I never thought I'd do._

_ I took Flora's face in my hands and kissed her on the forehead._

_ "Thank you, Flora."_


End file.
